The Illusionist
by ArcanaIncendia
Summary: Anastasia Romanov may have bitten off more than she could chew agreeing to help Vladislav Dracul III with a personal issue in her mentor's stead. After all, 600 years of madness earns a man more than a few enemies. But can they dodge both friend and foe and secure what Vlad desperately needs? And is it worth risking both Ana's life and his sanity? ["OC" Story]
1. Chapter 1 - What Scream?

**Disclaimer: Long story short, I don't own it. I'm not making any money off of this, it's just an ongoing chronicle of a game my boyfriend and I have been playing with a couple of our "own characters"…which is in quotes because technically we don't own them either since they're historical figures, like the vast majority of the characters in the books. Coincidentally.**

**Disclaimer 2: We've done our best to keep them true to history, here, but obviously we've never met the historical figures depicted here so the artistic liberties will have to be excused, no one's trying to defame anyone's character or anything like that.**

-/-/-/-/-

Chapter 1:

Anastasia leaned on the railing, staring into the water below. A breeze had come and was presently toying with the ends of the pink scarf she had tied around her throat. Her strawberry blond hair mingled with it, stray hairs plastering themselves against her face. She brushed them back when they came, trying not to fidget too much, or to appear nervous.

He'd told her to come here, told her there would be someone waiting for her to help. At one hundred and eleven years old, she should be above these kinds of jitters. She was meeting an ally, one Grigori had spoken for. He couldn't be too terrible.

But his parting words echoed in her ears none the less.

_If he starts to act maddened, stay your distance._

She swallowed in an effort to wet her dry throat and was about to check her phone for the time when a noise grabbed her attention. There was a short shriek a small distance away, and a cloud of rust red mist puffed from the alley for a moment before the man strode out of it, tugging at the lacy sleeve of his shirt.

How none of the mortals noticed him, she had no idea. He was a tall man, over six and a half feet for a certainty. She would look like a child next to him, she could tell, and he wasn't anywhere near her yet.

His back was straight, his wavy dark hair kept out of his face and behind his shoulders in spite of the wind this afternoon. The thought occurred to her that his hair was behaving itself out of sheer terror as he drew closer. He had a pointed goatee, the kind cheesy villains that tied helpless heroines to the railroad tracks would have, she thought. And the way he dressed…

His waistcoat was velvet. Real. Red. Velvet. She had the sneaking suspicion that the spotless white lace that touched his wrists and throat had been hand-stitched. His eyes fell on her, and a wry smirk crossed his face as he looked her over. For a moment, Ana wondered how he knew, but then she remembered; none of the humani had noticed him, and she had.

The scent of blood clung to his aura, she caught it as he drew closer. She stifled her gag behind a coughing fit and tried to breathe through her mouth without tasting it. Could one taste an aura, even? She didn't want to find out.

"Bonjour," she choked out. Her French was flawless. "I…I'm Anastasia Nikolaevna."

She extended her hand tentatively, but was pleased to see it wasn't shaking like she thought it would be. The man pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket and shook it out, taking her hand with it and bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it gently.

"Vlad Dracul," he said, and he dipped into a bow even as he held her hand, "Prince of Wallachia."

So courtly. So pompous. So…terrifying. She managed a nod, but her throat had gone dry again and she wasn't trusting herself to speak just then. Prince of Wallachia. She could have been that way, too, if she'd wanted to. She was a Grand Duchess, after all. Though, even in her childhood people had very seldom referred to her as such.

"May I ask why Raz sent you to me?" he asked, the gentlemanly tone still in his voice.

"He wanted me to help you," she said. Vlad rested a hand on the railing of the bridge and looked out over the water.

"Do you know what you're getting into?" he asked. She didn't. She'd been hoping he would tell her, but it didn't matter either way. Grigori had asked her to do this and she would not refuse him. That was never an option, not regarding the man who had treated her like a daughter for so many years.

"N-no," she said, and paused. When he didn't answer, she continued, "what was that a minute ago? That scream?"

He turned his eyes on her sidelong and that smirk was back on his face. "What scream?"


	2. Chapter 2 - Famous Last Words

**Disclaimer: Long story short, I don't own it. I'm not making any money off of this, it's just an ongoing chronicle of a game my boyfriend and I have been playing with a couple of our "own characters"…which is in quotes because technically we don't own them either since they're historical figures, like the vast majority of the characters in the books. Coincidentally.**

**Disclaimer 2: We've done our best to keep them true to history, here, but obviously we've never met the historical figures depicted here so the artistic liberties will have to be excused, no one's trying to defame anyone's character or anything like that.**

-/-/-/-/-

Chapter 2:

"I need you to pay careful attention to where we are going. I have a list of things that need procured for our journey, it is going to be a long one and I don't want to have to return to Paris for anything. Pit stops are to be expected but I would prefer to keep them to a bare minimum," he said. There was a pad of paper in front of him and his nose was stuck in it. "Raz tells me you have a good eye."

"I can hit a target," Ana said. If her voice was defensive she could hardly be blamed; to say Vlad was imposing would be like saying the canal was wet.

"Excellent, that will be useful. This is my address, you'll be able to enter once but once you do, don't go looking for it again. You won't be able to get back in after you leave, the password only works once before it changes, am I clear?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. Before she could get another word in he was talking again.

"That last thing on the list there, the one that doesn't say what it is, just tell the man I'm looking for it, tell him Vlad sent you and he will hand it over. I don't want this to be any more trouble than it has to be just realize it's incredibly important that no one else get their hand on that parcel. It should be the last thing you pick up."

Ana nodded as he handed her the list. His handwriting was smaller than she expected; did he really expect her to get all of this? Nevermind. She could do it. Father Grigori would never have asked her to assist this man if he didn't think she was capable of it.

He would never have sent her into the waiting jaws of a predator ready to kill her would he?

And this parcel, was it really that important that she get it after everything else? Surely he was playing it up, trying to make it sound more mysterious than it was.

"Well," he said, "if that's the case then I have an associate to see about a last minute pair of plane tickets. Thank you, Ms. Anastasia, for being willing to accompany me on what promises to be a most dangerous and terrifying adventure."

And with that he was gone. She didn't see so much of a flap of his red velvet coat as he disappeared into the crowded Parisian streets.

Anastasia looked back down at the list in her hand. Well. He did say that parcel was important, and she was fairly sure she wasn't going to be able to get everything on this list before sundown.

What harm could it do?


	3. Chapter 3 - Bizarre Bazaar

**Disclaimer: Long story short, I don't own it. I'm not making any money off of this, it's just an ongoing chronicle of a game my boyfriend and I have been playing with a couple of our "own characters"…which is in quotes because technically we don't own them either since they're historical figures, like the vast majority of the characters in the books. Coincidentally.**

**Disclaimer 2: We've done our best to keep them true to history, here, but obviously we've never met the historical figures depicted here so the artistic liberties will have to be excused, no one's trying to defame anyone's character or anything like that.**

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Chapter 3:

"Hello?" she called. The shop was like an old fashioned market tent at some kind of foreign bazaar. Bizarre was right, anyway, there were so many strange things on the walls. She was eyeing a jar of purple eyeballs floating in some kind of clear fluid when there was a slap at the counter that made her jump.

"Yes, yes, how may I help you?" the man asked. He grinned. He was as bad as his shop; dark skin and eyes with a golden tooth like something out of Arabian Nights. She felt her face heating up just thinking about that book.

"I came to retrieve something for Vlad Tepes," she said.

"Aaah," the man said, "yes, very good, come with me."

She followed him past another curtain. This couldn't have been part of normal Paris there had to be something warding this place against normal Humani. She could just imagine a soccer mom taking her two kids in here and freaking out at some of the merchandize.

'Oh, little Timmy, don't look at the severed human hand! I never!'

It was all she could do not to laugh, but she couldn't help but smile to herself. The man blew a layer of dust off a chest in the back and opened it, lifting a brown-wrapped item and offering it to her. Anastasia took it.

"Thank you, how much is this?" she asked.

"Oh," he said, "there is no charge, I was only holding this particular item for Master Vlad while he…prepared for its usage. He brought it here in the first place and paid for its lodgings handsomely long ago."

"Okay," Ana said, "fair enough and thank you."

"Best you run along, pretty blond Russian girl," the man said.

She might have asked questions, but he was already ushering her out of the shop. The eyes in the clear liquid seemed to swivel to follow her as he pushed her out the door and when she turned around to comment on it, the shop was just gone.

Anastasia looked at the burlap wrapped parcel and back up at the spot in the street the shop used to be.

Today was just going to get weirder, she was sure. With a sigh, she felt along the edges of the parcel. It was rectangular like a box, but heavier than a box should be. She wanted very badly to see what she was supposedly risking her life to keep safe, but Vlad's words came back to her.

Was it really so important that this thing be kept safe? Who would even be looking for something so small?

"Oh," she muttered to herself, brow furrowing, "this is silly. No one is going to come after me for holding this thing."

"That my dear," a male voice said from the other end of the alleyway, "is where you're wrong."


	4. Chapter 4 - Street Chase

**Disclaimer: Long story short, I don't own it. I'm not making any money off of this, it's just an ongoing chronicle of a game my boyfriend and I have been playing with a couple of our "own characters"…which is in quotes because technically we don't own them either since they're historical figures, like the vast majority of the characters in the books. Coincidentally.**

**Disclaimer 2: We've done our best to keep them true to history, here, but obviously we've never met the historical figures depicted here so the artistic liberties will have to be excused, no one's trying to defame anyone's character or anything like that.**

-/-/-/-/-

Chapter 4:

The man had a very long face and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. His expression was austere and he had a black umbrella perched between his hands; he wasn't leaning on it but the way he held himself suggested he could have been.

His dark eyes were set in a gaunt face, his shoulders straight, his mouth a thin line.

"Give me the book," he said, "this does not have to be a violent exchange."

With his thin frame, Anastasia was fairly certain she could take him. Even so, a man like this…he was a walking anachronism and as they stood together in this alleyway, no one else seemed to see them. For a moment she was tempted to get a dagger in his smug pea-coat wearing self, but she didn't know what this was about or even what—

"Book?" she asked. She started to uncover it and in a second the man had crossed the alley and was right in front of her trying to wrestle it from her grasp.

"Give it to me!"

"I don't think so!" she yelled. Ana jerked forward, driving her knee into his stomach. It must have knocked the wind out of him; it gave her time to escape. She ran and as she did so she pulled on her aura and constructed an illusion.

She ran one way, and the illusionary copy of herself ran the other. He would have to choose one, and if he didn't share her magic he would have to guess which and have no way of telling if he had the right one.

All Ana could do now was get back to Vlad's apartment. House? He hadn't told her which it was, she hadn't even bothered to look for it before she went to get the…the parcel. The book.

Her heart was hammering, she could hear footsteps behind her. Was it him? Was he still chasing her? Damn, she was hoping he would have picked the copy!

But he didn't and now she was just running full tilt down a crowded street where everyone could clearly see them. Wait.

"Help!" she shouted. She cast an illusion on her voice to make herself sound younger. "Help, please, this man just assaulted me with his umbrella!"

As silly as it sounded in French, it worked. Several people moved out of their way to get in his path, to stop him from following. Ana turned a corner and took a moment to find out where the stupid place she was looking for was.

A few streets down. She could make it that far.

He didn't find her again as she ran, what she had done with those people had done the trick. She was glad for that as she leaned against the inside of Vlad's door, breathing heavily.

He was right, she thought, she really should have just gotten everything else first and taken the book here afterward. Now she'd have to go out all over again and—

-then she'd be locked out.

…well crap.

He was going to be so mad.


	5. Chapter 5 - Necromantic Comedy

**Disclaimer: Long story short, I don't own it. I'm not making any money off of this, it's just an ongoing chronicle of a game my boyfriend and I have been playing with a couple of our "own characters"…which is in quotes because technically we don't own them either since they're historical figures, like the vast majority of the characters in the books. Coincidentally.**

**Disclaimer 2: We've done our best to keep them true to history, here, but obviously we've never met the historical figures depicted here so the artistic liberties will have to be excused, no one's trying to defame anyone's character or anything like that.**

-/-/-/-/-

Chapter 5:

Vlad's place was about as dark as Anastasia expected it to be. The walls were what appeared to be ebon, but she got the distinct feeling the rooms contained within weren't on earth at all, but some shadow realm he'd created an entrance to in Paris. That meant the black would could have been anything.

She explored for a while, knowing she had hours before he returned. She was still more than a little bit shaken from her encounter with that man before. She was still curious about the book, but not enough to unwrap it.

Her exploration was cut short at a door that had tinges of red along the curves. Anastasia had no desire to cross that threshold, it was probably his bedroom and if his house was this creepy what must that be like?

When the door opened and closed it jarred Anastasia from a dreamless sleep on an armchair in the living room. She sat up, went to get to her feet but Vlad motioned for her to stay.

"I see you got the book," he said.

"About that," she said.

"I see you didn't pick up anything else," he said.

"Vlad—"

"Damn it, you had one job, Ana," he said, turning to face her. "We're going to have to stop and supply sooner than I thought then. At least the book is in one piece. I assume you ran into trouble?"

"A man with a horse face and glasses chased me here," Ana said.

"That would be Howard," Vlad said, distastefully. He dropped onto the couch and pressed his fingers into his temples. His hand had seemed so large next to hers on the bridge. "He's keen on getting his hands on this book, but he mustn't have it. Not only would it be absolutely disastrous for him to procure this literature on top of the necronomicon, but I need it for payment later."

"The necronomicon?" Ana asked, blinking.

"The Book of the Dead," Vlad explained.

"I know what it is," Ana said. She got up from the chair and joined him on the couch. "Who is he that he has something like that?"

"Howard?" Vlad asked. "He was just a nerd that was obsessed with the occult until he got his hands on the actual book of the dead, now he's a major thorn in my side. It seems everyone wants a piece of Vlad the Impaler."

Ana felt herself pale just a little. She had been around violence, not enough to necessarily say she was accustomed to it, but she had been around it before. Violence with guns and blunted bats. But to impale a person…

"Anastasia," he said, "look at you. All the blood's run right out of you."

She wasn't sure what it was about the way he said it, whether it was the wry smirk on his face or the rather blunt way he had of putting it. She remembered the rusty cloud that had floated out of the alley before and it occurred to her, not for the first time, that every second she was in the company of this man, her life was in danger.

"Of course it has," she said, "he has the book of the dead. Doesn't that mean he's a necromancer?"

"A top caliber necromancer," Vlad said. "Instantly just by nature of possessing the necronomicon. He could flood this city with shamblers in no time flat. All the more reason to get moving."

"He wouldn't do that," Ana said.

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, there was a piercing shriek outside.


	6. Chapter 6 - Where There's Smoke

**Disclaimer: Long story short, I don't own it. I'm not making any money off of this, it's just an ongoing chronicle of a game my boyfriend and I have been playing with a couple of our "own characters"…which is in quotes because technically we don't own them either since they're historical figures, like the vast majority of the characters in the books. Coincidentally.**

**Disclaimer 2: We've done our best to keep them true to history, here, but obviously we've never met the historical figures depicted here so the artistic liberties will have to be excused, no one's trying to defame anyone's character or anything like that.**

**IOU1882: **Thank you for reviewing and for your interest in Vlad and Ana's story. As of right now I don't have the intention of including canon characters as this story is an ongoing chronicle of a tabletop RP and so far none have appeared in it. It is set after the Enchantress for the most part, and won't be nearly as world-effecting as the core series was. What's at stake here is far more personal to the characters involved. That said, I realize this kind of tale won't be everyone's cup of tea and won't be at all offended if you lose interest for that reason. I'm just playing in the sandbox for personal enjoyment, after all.

-/-/-/-/-

Chapter 6:

"Come now," Vlad said. He moved swiftly to the door and held it open long enough for Ana to come out alongside him. She heard the scream as plain as day from inside, but seeing it firsthand was a totally different story.

Anastasia had seen a lot of things in her century and change, but she had never seen this many zombies in one place before. There was a woman bleeding from the shoulder as she pulled a table off its legs and onto its side to get it between her and one of the shamblers. More were headed in her direction.

"Are you there, Tepes?"

"Howard," Vlad said, dryly. He stepped forward, in front of Ana, and his arms erupted to the elbows in flames. Zombies didn't like fire, right?

"Oh, are we back on a first name basis now?" the man asked. "How unlikely."

"I'm telling you to back off, Lovecraft," Vlad said. He put an emphasis on the name and pieces began to fall together for Ana. Howard Lovecraft. H.P. Lovecraft. That was him?

"And I'm telling you to give me that book," Lovecraft said. "I'm not afraid to run people down to get to it."

"You're making a rather large scene," Ana said, glancing nervously around. In the darkening street, people had already started clearing out, but there were enough that she was beginning to worry. "Certainly we can discuss this like civilized people?"

Vlad grinned madly. "Not a chance."

A moment later a ball of flames the size of a human head went shooting at Lovecraft from Vlad's right arm. Ana's eyes widened and it took her mind a moment to connect the fire to Vlad's magic. She could smell his aura, now, and she nearly choked on it.

It was like rust. Iron. Blood. Too thick, too much, and it reminded her of a moment she dearly longed to forget. Ana didn't know if Vlad's fireball caught Lovecraft or not, only that a moment later the flames on his arms flickered out and he was dragging her down a crowded street.

"I can hold him off," Vlad said, "but I need you to get to the airport and secure us a place on the next plane out to Africa. I don't care about turnover, I don't care how much extra we have to spend to get there. He won't keep destroying this city if we aren't in it."

"You mean if the book isn't in it," Ana said, looking up at him.

Vlad paused and his head lifted. Another mad grin crossed his face, showing off a mouth full of teeth that were sharper than they should have been. He thrust the wrapped book into her arms.

"Take it," he said, "run with it, get it to the airport, board the plane without me if you have to. And don't look inside."

"But—"

He was already gone, running back toward the horde of shambling zombies. Shambling zombies that would probably be on fire in a couple of minutes. Shambling on-fire zombies being controlled by a mad-man with power to rival an immortal four times his age.

He was her age, she realized, a rough century. But he had been older when he'd…it didn't matter. She turned on her heel and ran, and as her feet pounded the pavement something strange occurred to her.

She was worried.

She was worried for Vlad, and whether or not he was going to come out of this and meet her at the plane. She wanted him to be there, and it was as much for his wellbeing as it was not wanting to have this task thrust on her alone.

There was a plume of fire just within her range of vision. The authorities were going to have a hard time explaining this one.


End file.
